


Make the Rockin' World Go Round

by BertholdvonMoosburg



Series: Detroit Musical Shenanigans [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Chubby Katsuki Yuuri, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Detroit days, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Insecure Katsuki Yuuri, Intercrural Sex, Lap Sex, Lapdance, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Queen - Freeform, Smut, Stripping, sooper light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10976865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BertholdvonMoosburg/pseuds/BertholdvonMoosburg
Summary: Phichit Chulanont is a good boyfriend. More than that, he thinks his boyfriend's off-season body isattractive as helland is determined to make that clear. This time, he might even be able to shout louder than Yuuri's insecurities.





	1. Oh, But I Still Get My Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> This started out as a 1000-word drabble. Oops. 
> 
> Chubby Yuuri is my jam. Phichit Chulanont is a treasure.
> 
> Chapter Two should be up sometime this week.

“Phiiiichiiiitttt,” whined Yuri.

Phichit looked up from his textbook. “Mm?”

“Phichit-kun, why do I do this to myself?”

He marked his place and closed the book. It was going to be one of  _ those  _ nights. Not that he minded. Almost anything beat reading about statistics. Even his boyfriend’s body insecurity.

“Yuuri,” Phichit grinned, getting up from his chair. Yuuri was standing at the door to his bedroom with a glum look on his face.  “I keep trying to tell you, your body is built to store energy for the winter. It’s afraid of famine and long, cold months. It’s a beautiful thing, weight gain. It’s trying to keep you alive.”

He moved closer to his roommate, reaching out and sliding his hands down Yuuri’s side to rest on his hips.

“Unfortunately for you, my dear Yuuri, you have plenty of access to food and are unlikely to starve if you cannot kill a woolly mammoth by January. But your body didn’t get the memo. Not that it matters,” he concluded. “You have all the right curves in  _ allll  _ the right places.” Phichit leered comically and waggled his eyebrows, trying to make Yuuri laugh.

Yuuri twisted out of his grip and hunched into himself. “I don’t even know how I manage to get enough air for a triple some days,” he muttered.

Phichit reached out and gently touched his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Yuuri, I’m making jokes but I’m actually serious, you know. You look fantastic during the season - hey. Hey, I know you don’t believe it, but it’s true. You’re lean and muscular and I love when we go freak out the gym bros with how much you can take on the hip abductor. 

“But you also look great in the off-season. You still have all that muscle, but you get softer. I love how my fingers press into your body, that extra give when I hold you. I love using your stomach for a pillow.”

Yuuri snorted. 

“Hey!” Phichit protested. “I’ll have you know that you meet my very exacting standards for cuddling. It’s way more fun in the off-season. Cuddling with you in December is like trying to cuddle with a Guanyin statue. Possibly divine, but less comfortable than you might want.”

This elicited a small smile.  _ Finally _ .

“Yuuri, I’m from  _ Thailand _ . You think I bought that window air conditioner because I can’t handle these weak Detroit summers?” He wrapped his arms around his self-conscious boyfriend’s shoulders, wishing he could help Yuuri see what he saw. “I bought that noisy hell-machine so we could still snuggle while we watch movies in the summer. I bought it so I wouldn’t want to kill us both when you ended up in my bed all night. I bought it because you are soft and sensual and I love touching you!”

His face grew serious. “If you’re  _ really  _ that concerned, I know what would help.”

Yuuri sighed. “It would be nice. What’s your idea?”

Phichit pressed himself close, hip to hip. “We could go dancing. You know I love dancing with you.”

Yuuri wheeled and slapped him on the shoulder with a laugh. 

Phichit grinned and kissed the tip of his nose. “Nevermind burning calories, let’s go dancing and you can see how many people hit on you while we’re there! Trust me, there are a lot of people who agree with me that you look great!”

Yuuri just shook his head, but this time he wasn’t protesting. “You are impossible.” He wrapped his arms around the younger skater. “Alright,” he said. “Alright. I give in. We’ll go dancing. But I still don’t understand it.”

It didn't take them long to change outfits from comfy studying-at-home sweats to clubbing clothes. The longest delay was Yuuri’s reluctance to putting on his usual dancing jeans, claiming they were tighter than usual and made him look huge. Phichit disagreed. He disagreed  _ wholeheartedly _ . His wolf whistle after he finally convinced Yuuri to put them on had turned Yuuri bright red.

But he hadn't taken them off.

Phichit pleaded to be allowed to style Yuuri’s hair like it was done for his skate routines, knowing from experience that it Did Things to other people the same way it did to him. A light touch of makeup was all that Yuuri had allowed for himself, but Phichit sported dark eyes and bright gold lipstick. At last, he declared them ready to go.

Three beers and a vodka shot later, Yuuri was on the club’s floor surrounded by dancers of all genders. Phichit had gone to the bar for water and and was delighted to return to the best photo opportunity he’d probably get all evening. He took several shots from slightly different vantage points so he could highlight the sheer number of people trying to hit on his boyfriend the next day. Yuuri required several peer-reviewed studies and a metadata analysis before he would admit that other people found him hot, even though he wasn’t nearly drunk enough yet to have memory troubles later.

Satisfied that he had enough evidence, Phichit waded back onto the dance floor. Pushing aside a tall redhead, he twined his arms around Yuuri’s neck. 

“Phichit!” Yuuri shouted over the music. “You were right! All these people wanted to dance with me!”

“I told you!” he shouted back. “You’re hot as hell!”

Yuuri grabbed his hips and pulled him closer to grind on him. Not the reason for their clubbing tonight, but a definite bonus. Damp with sweat and glowing with exhilaration, Yuuri was as hot as Phichit had ever seen him. He abandoned the large-cohort research into Yuuri’s hotness and decided to concentrate on a single case study. Grinding back on Yuuri, Phichit grabbed his boyfriend’s ass, relishing the feel of soft flesh under the taut denim. The club music gave them an easily shared rhythm, and their mutual profession gave their dancing a sinuous quality that had their hearts racing not just from exertion.

As the song moved smoothly into a new one, Yuuri reached up to curl his hand around the back of Phichit’s neck. The music and the press of bodies faded from his awareness as Yuuri gave him a heavy-lidded smile and pulled him into a kiss. 

Phichit melted into Yuuri. He always loved the feel of his boyfriend’s lips, but when Yuuri was confident, he was a whole different level of hot. Yuuri like this could demand anything of him and he’d obey willingly, breathless, entranced (the few occasions when this had happened were especially treasured memories). Yuuri’s lips brushed his lightly at first, heated but soft. Phichit’s breath caught and his lips parted slightly in invitation. Yuuri’s tongue slipped into his mouth, brushing his own. 

Suddenly the club they were in was too loud, too crowded, too  _ public _ . If they stayed much longer, Yuuri would have another few drinks and Phichit would have to escort him home, tuck him into bed, and leave him there alone. There would be sloppy drunk kisses and groping, but nothing more. 

He pulled back. “Yuuri,” he said into his ear, wanting to be heard without bellowing. “Yuuri, I want to go home. Enough of these people; it’s my turn to admire you.  _ Properly _ .” And he nibbled at Yuuri’s earlobe.

He felt more than heard Yuuri’s hum of agreement. 

Hand in hand, they dragged each other off the dance floor and out into the night. The air outside the club was only marginally cooler than inside, and their shirts were damp with sweat. 

The walk home wasn't long, but it would have been faster if they hadn't kept stopping to push one another up against handy walls or lampposts to resume kissing. Phichit felt a bit silly and indulgent but they didn't have training in the morning and weren't in any hurry. 

A block from their building, Phichit pressed Yuuri back into another conveniently located lamppost. Yuuri would wake up the next morning, he knew, and despite the photographic evidence would fret about being overweight and unattractive. Perhaps an object lesson would stick better?

“Yuuuuri,” he whined, nuzzling his neck and dropping tiny kisses along it. “Let me fuck your thighs tonight. I've been watching you move in those sinfully tight jeans _all_ _night_ and I'm dying.”

Yuuri giggled and toyed with his boyfriend’s hair. “I don't know,” he said. “Maybe you should convince me how badly you want it.”

“Mmm,” Phichit replied. “I can do that.” He leaned back and tugged Yuuri’s shirt to yank him upright and down the street again. He suddenly found himself done with waiting. 

When they reached their building, Phichit tapped in their entry code. The elevator ride to their flat was filled with more kisses and they almost missed their floor. Yuuri fumbled with the lock and then they were falling through the doorway in a tangle of limbs.

“Well,” Yuuri said softly, “are you going to show me how much you want to fuck my thighs?”

Phichit looked up, watching hungrily as Yuuri licked his lips and stared at him, eyes dark. He could see the bulge beginning in Yuuri’s tight jeans and whined softly. “I can’t wait. You're so gorgeous, Yuuri. I love every part of you, but especially your amazing curves. I'm so lucky my boyfriend is a professional skater. I'd beg him to wear leggings to every practice, but he banned me.” He pouted playfully, drawing another giggle from Yuuri.

Enough talking, he decided, grabbing Yuuri’s hand and dragging him through the apartment and into his bedroom, shutting the door. He flicked on the air conditioner in the window. Yuuri was already unbuttoning his shirt. Retrieving his lipstick from a pocket with a grin, Phichit shucked off his own clothes in seconds, tossing them toward his hamper. 

Swaying his hips, he approached his boyfriend. Phichit bit his lower lip and looked up at Yuuri through heavy eyelids. Keeping Yuuri’s gaze, he reapplied the bright lipstick he’d been wearing at the club.  He undid Yuuri’s belt and trousers and pushed them to the floor, along with his underwear. Yuuri’s cock sprung free, hard already from their slow teasing on the way home. Phichit couldn’t help licking his lips.

Taking Yuuri’s hand, he spun him around until he bumped into the bed and sat down with a small bounce. Phichit slid smoothly to his knees between Yuuri’s legs and smiled up at him hungrily. “I love your thighs so much, Yuuri,” he said. Running his hands slowly up and down the thighs in question, he sighed softly. He wanted to put in words how he felt about Yuuri and his body, but words were difficult when he wanted so badly to just  _ touch _ .

“They’re so powerful, strong enough to lift you into quad jumps, but right now they’re soft, too, perfect for resting my head on when you let me put  _ The King and the Skater _ on for the thirty-seventh time.” He punctuated his statement with a series of little kisses up along Yuuri’s thigh, leaving a line of small, golden marks as he went. “I wish you’d wear leggings to training more often so I could admire them as we skate.” And he nuzzled the sensitive spot where Yuuri’s thigh joined his body. His hands crept around Yuuri’s hips to grip his ass. 

Yuuri hummed in enjoyment of the attention and carded his hand through Phichit’s hair. “But if I wore leggings, my boyfriend would be distracted and flub all his jumps. He's trying to learn a quad toe loop, you know.”

“Mm,” Phichit agreed, laying kisses along Yuuri’s other thigh, delighting in the matching line of lipstick on both thighs. “He'd come home with so many bruises needing to be kissed.”

“Exactly. And we’d never get our homework done then.” 

Phichit looked up at his boyfriend. Yuuri’s eyes belied the seriousness of his voice. Overcome with affection, Phichit pushed himself up a bit on Yuuri’s incredible thighs and kissed him again, slow and tenderly, and was rewarded with a small moan.

He sat back on his heels again and leaned in,  _ finally _ , to lick slowly up the underside of Yuuri’s cock, then took the head of it in his mouth. He couldn’t help moaning. Yuuri’s cock always wound him up, thick and heavy in his mouth. Swirling around the tip and underneath where it joined the shaft, he felt himself getting harder as he worked. 

He wrapped a hand around the base and began to bob his head up and down, flicking his tongue at the tip each time, knowing it made Yuuri weak. The salty taste of pre-come hit him and his own quiet moan joined the soft panting of the man above him. He swirled his tongue just under the head of Yuuri’s cock, and Yuuri groaned loudly and brought his hands back up to rest in Phichit’s hair.

Phichit loved this: bringing slow, lazy pleasure to his boyfriend, lavishing attention on his beautiful, delicious cock. He peppered its length with little sucking kisses before diving back onto it, hollowing his cheeks and caressing the underside with his tongue in long strokes. 

“Ahhhh, Phichit-kun,” Yuuri hissed, his head falling back. “God, you’re so good.”

The younger man hummed in pleasure at the compliment, drawing another moan from Yuuri. He relaxed his throat, pushing Yuuri’s cock all the way into his mouth and to the back of his throat until his nose brushed the soft hair at its base. Yuuri gave another choked moan and his fingers tightened in Phichit’s hair. The slight tug and the faint edge of pain made Phichit whine. Yuuri being aggressive in bed never happened often enough, in his opinion. Tonight wasn’t the night to beg for more of that, but hopefully soon. He wanted to make the night thoroughly about Yuuri.

He pulled back to lick the head of Yuuri’s cock again, revelling in the taste of his pre-come and licking lightly at the slit at its source. He worked his tongue and head in concert, pressing his tongue along its length and flicking at the head as he bobbed up and down, increasing his pace.

Phichit looked up at Yuuri, his own pleasure-dreamy eyes meeting his boyfriend’s, blown wide and black with desire. He gave Yuuri a sultry smile. “Believe me yet that you’re incredibly sexy,  _ Ûan _ ? Let me fuck your delicious thighs and show you more.” He sucked a kiss into one of Yuuri’s thighs for emphasis, biting firmly to ensure there would be a mark.  He wanted to remind Yuuri about the night with a mark that would last longer than lipstick. 

Phichit rose up again to kiss Yuuri, biting gently on his lower lip. He deepened the kiss as he stood, snaking his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth, hot and needy. Phichit pushed Yuuri’s shoulders until he fell back against the bed. His straddled Yuuri and leaned down to nibble the spot under his ear. Yuuri whined. Phichit trailed hot kisses down the arch of his neck, the soft moans he drew out of his boyfriend urging him on. He continued the trail of kisses down Yuuri’s chest, pausing to suck on his nipples, and then down over the stomach that his boyfriend was so self-conscious of. He sat up on his knees and ran his hands over Yuuri’s abdomen, letting his admiration and hunger sit naked in his gaze.

“I love your stomach, Yuuri. The incredible muscle hidden under this fluff. Your off-season body, it’s so  _ yạ̀wywn _ . Sorry, I don’t know the word in English. It’s curvy and erotic and I love everything about it.” He pressed his fingers firmly into Yuuri’s sides, admiring how his fingers sunk slightly into the flesh, the feel of it as he gripped. Phichit pressed sloppy kisses into his boyfriend’s soft stomach, paying special attention to the stretch marks which criss-crossed Yuuri’s abdomen. “These marks, they’re so pretty, like fireworks on your skin. I can’t imagine you without them.” He drew a shaky breath, the need to feel his cock pressed against his boyfriend suddenly overwhelming.

“Get your amazing ass up on my bed properly,” he whispered.

Phichit paused to let Yuuri scoot up onto the bed so he could rest his head on the pillow. He reached over to his night table, opening the drawer and retrieving the lube kept there. He felt his breath coming short, the anticipation of Yuuri’s thighs making him almost painfully hard. Yuuri rolled onto his side, making room between himself and the wall for Phichit. 

Phichit settled in behind Yuuri with a groan of contentment and anticipation. Reaching down, his ran his hands over Yuuri’s ass, unable to stop himself rocking into Yuuri when he squeezed and felt the softness and the dense muscle beneath. “God, Yuuri,” he whispered heatedly into his boyfriend’s shoulder, “your ass is so good it’s practically a  _ crime _ .” He squeezed it again and lightly slapped it, causing Yuuri to giggle. Phichit grinned and slapped it again, teasing. The way Yuuri’s ass wiggled when he slapped it enthralled him. He wished he could watch it over and over again, in a loop. Maybe Yuuri would let him film it sometime, he hoped.

Popping open the lube, he poured some into his hand and slicked up his cock, gasping a little at the slippery movement of his hand. Shifting a little, he settled behind Yuuri and wrapped his free arm around Yuuri’s torso to trace his stomach again. Phichit pressed his cock between the cheeks of Yuuri’s ass and nearly drew blood biting his lip while trying to stifle his moan.  _ Fuck  _ it was good. 

Yuuri pressed back against him, increasing the pressure on his cock, making him moan. Phichit rocked himself along Yuuri’s ass like that, shivering with pleasure. Yuuri kept pressing back into him, meeting his thrusts, and Phichit heard him gasp as he slid over the sensitive area around Yuuri’s hole. He kept up the angle, sliding back and forth over the delicate skin, thrusting against him until he was panting with arousal. They both loved it when Phichit fucked Yuuri in the ass, and  _ god  _ was it ever tempting, but tonight Phichit was determined to remind his boyfriend that his body’s off-season fluff was hot and extremely fuckable for itself.

Finally shuddered to a stop, breathing deeply, and slicked himself up again to shift and fit his cock between Yuuri’s delicious thighs. Yuuri clamped his thighs tightly together and Phichit began thrusting again. His cock slid slickly between Yuuri’s legs, and he moaned more loudly than he anticipated. Phichit’s hips stuttered and he had to take a moment to control himself so he didn't come before he could properly enjoy the feeling. The combination of soft flesh over hard muscle was almost too much for him. Yuuri’s grip on his cock was as firm as it was during the season, but the way his extra softness wrapped around Phichit’s cock was exquisite. 

He thrust again, setting a slow, deliberate pace. Yuuri’s little noises of pleasure whenever Phichit’s cock brushed his balls were erotic. Yuuri wasn't particularly verbal during sex, but the sounds he made went straight to Phichit’s cock. The hand trapped beneath his boyfriend played teasingly with his nipples while the other hand roamed over Yuuri’s soft abdomen. Phichit alternated between sloppy kisses and nibbles to Yuuri’s neck and gasping praises into his ear. Yuuri loved being overwhelmed with sensation and Phichit was only too happy to oblige.

“God, Yuuri, your body is so fucking sexy. You have no idea how hard I get thinking about your thighs, your ass, your stomach. I think my cock died and went to heaven. I would fuck you every night like this. When you put on those jeans earlier,  _ Ûan, _  I wondered if I'd come in my pants watching you dance before I could get you home and naked in my bed.”

Under the assault of Phichit's hands, cock, kisses, and voice, Yuuri's whimpers and moans began to get frantic, hips and ass thrusting back into Phichit, who sped up his pace to match.

“Yuuri.  _ Yuuri _ ,” Phichit panted. Yuuri reached back to grab Phichit’s ass to pull him even closer.

“Nnnghh, Phichit-kun, touch me, touch me  _ please _ .”

Yuuri breaking his silence to beg was one of Phichit's favourite parts of sex. He loved knowing he'd made his boyfriend desperate enough to force words out despite his innate reserve. Yuuri pleading for him in that needy, broken voice went straight to his cock. His hips thrust faster.

As he felt his rhythm begin to falter, he wrapped his hand firmly around Yuuri’s cock, stroking in time with his thrusts. The tight heat he’d been chasing began to pool low in his stomach. 

“Fuck, Yuuri, grip me tighter. God. Yes, just like that. Yuuri,  _ Ûan _ . God I love your thighs like this. Oh god, Yuuri, yes.”

He thrust one last time into Yuuri’s thighs, then his back arched and the heat pooled in his stomach exploded, ripping a long, loud moan from his throat. Come splattered the sheets in front of Yuuri and slid down his leg as Phichit's cock pulsed to the last waves of his orgasm.

Phichit slowly came back to himself, resuming his attention on Yuuri’s cock. Every few strokes he brushed his thumb over the head, encouraging the half-audible pleading that wound through Yuuri’s moaning. He kept up a steady stream of praises, letting his pleasure and satisfaction fill his voice, telling Yuuri how hot he was, how gorgeous his body, how hard he’d come from fucking his thighs, how much he loved going to clubs so he could show off his boyfriend, how badly he wanted to make his  _ Ûan  _ come.

Yuuri’s moans turned into desperate little whines. Sensing he was on the brink, Phichit increased his pace, twisting his hand slightly each stroke. When he bit down on his boyfriend’s shoulder, Yuuri shouted and came in Phichit's hand. He stroked Yuuri carefully through his orgasm, letting go only once his shudders had subsided and his body went limp.

He wiped his hand on the sheet, then tugged the fabric up to wipe off his sated boyfriend. Phichit shifted his weight and curled up around Yuuri, wrapping his arm once again around his soft, warm stomach. 

“Yuuri,” he murmured sleepily.

“Mm?” came the reply.

“Sleep here with me.”

“Phichit-kun,” Yuuri laughed softly, “if you think I'm leaving this bed for longer than to use the bathroom, you are insane.”

Phichit dropped sleepy little kisses over his boyfriend’s shoulder. “No,” he said, “sleep here with me every night. The bed is big enough for the both of us, and with the air conditioner you’ll sleep better. Plus,” he added, “I want to enjoy being able to cuddle your off-season body while it lasts.”

Yuuri just made a half-awake sort of noise that sounded agreeable, so Phichit took that as a yes. Exhausted and sated, he kissed Yuuri’s shoulder a final time before letting himself drift into sleep. 

At some point during the night, Phichit woke to use the bathroom and get a drink of water. Returning to the bed, he found Yuuri splayed across it with little room left for himself. Smiling happily, he slid back under the sheets, nudging his sleeping boyfriend to roll and make room. Yuuri grunted sleepily and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. 

Their first months as roommates had been awkward and hesitant, Yuuri so reserved and he so outgoing. It had taken time to realise  Eventually they'd learned to speak each other’s languages - not Japanese or Thai, but the language of dishes done without complaint, quietly cooking meals for two instead of one, the enjoyment of new experiences shared rather than alone. 

Soon enough, their friendship had grown slowly into a closer companionship, sharing a bed to study on, cuddling to watch movies, and - in a moment that seemed inevitable - sweet first kisses. Phichit would have happily moved into the same room as Yuuri permanently, but he knew how much Yuuri needed room to be alone in his head.

Yuuri had stopped protesting his love of his softer, chubbier body for the time being. His self-doubt and anxiety would return eventually: of that, Phichit had no illusions, but he hoped it would be a little while before they hit Yuuri again. He would fuck his boyfriend as often as was necessary to remind him how gorgeous he was. It would be a true tribulation, but Phichit was just that kind of unselfish boyfriend.

Drifting back to sleep, Phichit gave a contented sigh and thanked whatever deities might be watching over him that he got to have his Yuuri in his life and in his bed.


	2. Still get my greatest treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phichit's praise worked a little better than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Always with thanks to my wife, who has a talent for getting me unstuck.

Yuuri did not immediately forget his confidence. There was a moment the following day when Phichit feared his anxiety was surfacing again: Yuuri had been cooking dinner, and Phichit had been watching Yuuri cook dinner. In his confident moods, Yuuri had a habit of dancing as he cooked, and the J-pop playlist he had put on had his hips and ass moving in the most  _ interesting  _ ways. 

He was trying to find a good angle to quietly film Yuuri’s dancing when Yuuri suddenly stopped and stood still. Phichit's heart fell. But then Yuuri started dancing again. The moment passed and in the end he was too afraid of calling attention to Yuuri’s anxiety by asking about it.

After they'd eaten, Yuuri announced he was going to the rink. 

“Want some company?” Phichit asked. 

“It's alright, Phichit-kun. I wanted to work on some choreography ideas for next season to show Ciao-ciao. I know you've got a midterm coming, I'll be fine.” His voice was almost too casual. He was smiling and relaxed, though, so Phichit wasn't concerned that he was going to skate himself to exhaustion wrestling with his anxiety.worries.

Phichit nodded. “Alright, but text me if you need.”

He was brushing his teeth for bed when Yuuri finally returned, looking exhausted but pleased with himself. He joined Yuuri in the kitchen. 

“Good skate?”

Yuuri nodded.

Phichit wound his arms around his boyfriend’s waist and pressed himself close, smiling up at Yuuri in a wordless question.

Yuuri grinned but shook his head. “Not tonight, Phichit-kun. I want to do a bit more thinking. And a long shower. I’m gross.” He dropped a light kiss on Phichit’s forehead. “But give me another day or so, and I’ll be ready to show you what I’m working on. Okay?”

Phichit’s disappointment evaporated. Yuuri never showed him anything so quickly.

“I’ll miss you, but tonight I’ll allow it,” he teased. “Will you still join me when you’re ready to sleep?”

Yuuri blushed slightly. “Yeah,” he whispered.

Phichit hummed happily. “I’ll try not to hog the whole bed, then. Any chance I’ll see you in the morning?”

“Probably not. I’m going to get started early. Sleep in while you can.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t hurt yourself is all I ask.”

“I won’t,” Yuuri promised. “Sleep well, Phichit-kun.”

“Sleep well, Yuuri.”

Phichit was asleep when Yuuri finally came to bed. The unfamiliar shift in the mattress roused him briefly, enough to register the warm form of his boyfriend sliding under the covers. He stretched slightly and rolled onto his side, snuggling back into Yuuri, whose arms wrapped loosely around him. The last thing he felt before he slept again was a small kiss on his shoulder and as he drifted off, his mouth held a faint smile.

The next day, Phichit went to classes as usual, visited the library, and had dinner with a friend. He was studying for his upcoming exam in the living room when Yuuri came home at last. He dropped his gear bag on the floor and sunk into the couch with a groan. Phichit brushed his hair off his face and leaned in to kiss him gently. 

“Practice go well?”

“Mhm,” Yuuri replied, kissing him back. “I should probably have stopped a bit earlier, but I did want to show you something before Ciao-ciao gets back so I pushed it a little.”

Phichit smiled. “I pity all the poor, unlucky boys who don’t have boyfriends to make them up dances on the ice. How about you get yourself in the tub to soak while I finish the chapter and feed the hamsters. Then I’ll rub your legs for you.”

By the time Phichit was finished with his boyfriend’s massage, Yuuri was snoring softly. He curled up behind Yuuri and pulled the blanket over them both, feeling grateful again for the air conditioner.

The following afternoon, he stood by the boards watching Yuuri warm up again after lunch. His anticipation had him bouncing a little where he stood. Ciao-ciao did the choreography for their programs, but Yuuri was beginning to contribute elements when he was inspired. 

Yuuri came to a stop by Phichit, redder in the face than the light exertion warranted. “Alright, Phichit-kun. I-I’ve been working on this only for two days. I know you’re going to ask if you can record it, but if I let you it has to stay off SNS.” That was a definite blush, but his voice was firm. “And no telling Ciao-ciao about this. The last thing I want is him deciding I should do any of this in a competition.”

Wait, what?

Yuuri was fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. “Promise. No SNS.”

Phichit shrugged. He could always argue later. “Okay, Yuuri. I promise.”

He looked down to open the camera app on his phone and almost swallowed his tongue when he looked back up. Yuuri was unzipping his jacket and he was wearing nothing under it. Except… yellow plastic suspenders. Phichit fumbled and almost dropped his phone when Yuuri removed his warm-up pants to reveal a pair of shiny skintight black pants. Shit,  _ what _ ?

He got himself under control by the time Yuuri made it to the centre of the rink and struck a pose, one knee popped and both hands resting on his lower back. The pants showed every curve and dip of Yuuri’s body.

“Alright, Phichit-kun, hit play.”

Immediately the stereos blasted a small chorus crooning “ _ Ohhhhhhh _ ” and Phichit had a heartbeat of ignorance before “ _ you gonna take me home tonight _ ” made him nearly drop his phone again. His recording would forever lack Yuuri’s initial swoop but this was possibly the most amazing thing he would ever see in his life and he almost, almost didn’t care.

The choreography was simple: wide movements that emphasised Yuuri’s hips and spins that pushed his ass out enticingly. Phichit’s knuckles were already white gripping his phone when Yuuri took off into a triple axle as the drums intensified and Freddie Mercury launched himself into the chorus.

The layback Ina Bauer that followed displayed Yuuri’s bare chest and his ass in a way that had Phichit biting his lip to keep from making any sounds that would ruin the video. His mind flashed back to other, more private, times they had taken advantage of Yuuri`s dancer flexibility. Yuuri stomped his toe picks into the ice and swung his head back in perfect time to the music.

The routine wasn’t polished, but the fact that Yuuri had come here, worked on the music, and was now skating a deliberate show of confidence and sensuality _ specifically for him _ had Phichit intensely turned on. Yuuri strutted through the coda and came to his finishing pose - feet apart, looking down, one fist in the air - a short distance in front of Phichit. 

“Yuuri,” croaked Phichit, trying to make his hands work to stop the recording.

“Phi-phichit,” Yuuri stuttered, coming out of the performance headspace and standing more normally. Phichit’s boyfriend reappeared. “No SNS, no Ciao-ciao, you promised!”

Phichit shook his head, not trusting himself to speak. Yuuri shivered on the ice, cold now that he wasn’t moving.

“Home,” Phichit managed. “Jacket. Home. Now.”

Yuuri’s eyes grew wide as his nervousness was replaced with a grin and he was off the ice in an instant, skates shucked, shoes and jacket on, grabbing Phichit by the hand and dragging him out of the rink.

Phichit was sure they must be drawing stares on their way home, hand-in-hand and almost jogging. Fortunately, their apartment was close to the rink and by the time Yuuri was tugging Phichit out of the elevator, their intensity had not waned in the slightest.

Yuuri pulled Phichit through their door and slammed it shut. He looked him straight in the eye, breathing shallowly. “I know myself, and I know this won’t last. But right now I feel like I look good and I can tell my skate turned you on. So pick a dining chair and sit down.”

Phichit, later on, could never remember actually walking to the dining room. He had a vague memory of his legs going rubbery and sitting down, hard. His memory started to improve around when Yuuri stripped off his training jacket, and came into painfully sharp focus when Yuuri slid the ridiculous suspenders off his shoulders, unclipped them, and pulled Phichit’s arms behind the chair. 

He whimpered as Yuuri held his wrists together and wound the suspenders around them. He was pretty sure plastic suspenders made terrible rope, but the apartment would have to  _ catch on literal fire _ before he’d try to wriggle out. And even then, he’d wait to see if Yuuri could handle it with the extinguisher first.

Yuuri stood in front of him. He ran his hands down his chest, head rolling back as his fingertips grazed his nipples. His hands travelled lower, over his tight, tight pants and down over his hips. He palmed his erection through the cloth, eyes drifting shut in pleasure and Phichit couldn’t hold back another whimper.

Yuuri’s breath grew laboured as he touched himself. Then his eyes locked on Phichit’s, dark and intense. Phichit couldn't look away. He knew he lacked the shyness God gave a baboon but even so he felt himself flush from his hair to his chest. Yuuri was never like this, not even on his best, most confident days, and it was unfathomably erotic. His boyfriend was going to be the death of him. 

Yuuri stood directly in front of him, still holding his gaze. “N-no touching,” he stammered, looking for half a heartbeat like the boyfriend Phichit was used to. He gave a helpless, breathy laugh and half a shrug. Not unless the apartment was  _ literally in flames _ . Yuuri gave a tiny smile, and then his face changed again. He pulled out his phone, hit play, and placed it on the table, never breaking eye contact. Yuuri ducked his head with a sensual curve beginning to bloom on his lips and began to slowly weave his hips in time to the slow beat of the music.

“ _ God _ , Yuuri.”

Yuuri straddled his lap and rocked his hips experimentally. Phichit would bet his college tuition money that his boyfriend had never given (or received) a lap dance in his life, but while the style of dance was new, moving his body to a rhythm was something Yuuri knew in his bones. Phichit hummed in encouragement. Yuuri rocked in his lap, hovering just out of contact. His hands travelled teasingly over his hips again, up his chest to circle his nipples, and up his neck, following his head as it tilted back, eyes fluttering shut. Phichit could only watch as his boyfriend danced sinfully in his lap. Tiny whimpers fell from his lips.

He inhaled sharply as Yuuri braced his hands on the back of the chair and leaned in closer until the air between them was only a technicality. One finger stroked the side of his neck, and Phichit fought with the urge to thrust his cock up against Yuuri. He was getting so hard and his trousers were beginning to get painful.

Yuuri licked his lip.

Phichit groaned.

Yuuri moved back.

Phichit whined at the separation.

Yuuri swayed to the music, running a hand back through his hair, down over his neck and chest, and over his very visible erection. Those trousers really hid nothing.

Phichit thought he’d maybe get a jersey frame and mount them on the wall.

Finally Yuuri’s hands moved to his waistband. His expression was dark and teasing as he played with the fabric. He spun away from Phichit, who noted that the trousers left nothing to his imagination when it came to Yuuri’s ass, either. Yuuri slowly tugged them down, moving sinuously to the music as he did. The trousers revealed a pair of tight black briefs, and Phichit bit his lip, wanting to beg Yuuri to take those off too, now now _ now _ . 

When Yuuri leaned over to tug his clothes off his feet, Phichit couldn’t help the sound that escaped him. “ _ Yuuuuuri _ ,” he moaned. “ _ Ûan _ , you’re killing me. I’m going to die. I’ll be your dead boyfriend and everyone will try to comfort you at the funeral but they won’t know you killed me yourself,  _ you murderer _ .”

His boyfriend just smirked at him upside down from between his legs. 

Phichit squirmed. “Your ass isn’t just a crime, it’s the cause of death. You’ll have to spend the rest of your life wearing only baggy trousers so no one finds the murder weapon.”

Still smirking and bent almost double, Yuuri reached up and slid his briefs off. He was now entirely nude, and Phichit was way,  _ way  _ too clothed. His hips thrust vainly at the air, chasing even the impersonal friction of his clothing. Yuuri shook his head, tsking.

He straightened up again, flashed Phichit a heated look, and strutted over to his gear bag, from which he pulled out a bottle of lube. 

“Plan ahead,” was all Yuuri said. His voice was low and trembled slightly, comforting Phichit that this was affecting his boyfriend as much as himself.

“Yeah,” Phichit panted. “Yeah. Planning.”

“Poor Phichit-kun,” said Yuuri. “All tied up, and so hard.” His look was serious, but his eyes gleamed. “Maybe I should help you.”

He nodded vigorously.

Yuuri palmed the bulge in Phichit’s lap. His hips bucked up into the touch and he moaned loudly. Yuuri ran a single fingernail down Phichit’s zipper, teasing, before pulling it down for real and unbuttoning the waist. 

“Let me help you out of these.”

Phichit obediently lifted his hips off the chair, trembling with the effort of controlling his movements. Yuuri tugged his clothes over his ass and Phichit’s erection sprung free. He sunk back into the chair, desperately hoping Yuuri would touch him.

He was wrong.

Yuuri stood in front of him and took himself in hand. He squirted a small amount of lube into his hand and stroked his own cock. Phichit’s mouth fell open. Despite everything, despite all  _ this _ , it was something he hadn’t expected. He’d watched Yuuri jerk himself off before, but it had always been a shy thing, half-hidden in the darkness and press of their bodies on each other. This: this was a display, a show, in full daylight, his own private porn, and Yuuri did nothing to hide the pleasure he was bringing himself. 

“Yuuri, yuuri, you’re so gorgeous, oh my god, look at you, fuck. Oh fuck.” He was babbling. He didn’t care. All he could think of was encouraging Yuuri, of Yuuri never stopping.

Yuuri’s hand stilled on his cock. Phichit suddenly worried he’d broken Yuuri out of whatever bubble of confidence he was in, but Yuuri turned and bent nearly double again. A click of the lube’s cap. And then Yuuri’s hand, two fingers pressing slickly into his hole with no resistance at all. And his huge grin upside down.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Phichit moaned. “Yuuri, fuck, you’re already prepared? Please untie me. Please let me fuck you. Yuuri I need you. Please, Yuuri.” His hips were thrusting into the air, he could hardly breathe. He was even beginning to frantically consider if the heat in his body counted as “being on fire” and justified wiggling his hands free. 

“Plan ahead,” Yuuri repeated, and then his face dissolved into pleasure, hand moving in and out of himself with an obscene wet noise. He added a third, and Phichit watched as a bead of pre-come dribbled onto the floor by his toes. A few more thrusts, and Yuuri cried out, finally finding the spot inside him that made his knees tremble, threatening to collapse.

Panting heavily, Yuuri slid his fingers out with a moan. At that moment, Phichit would have killed every hamster on earth for his camera at hand. The sight of his boyfriend’s loose, slippery hole as Yuuri was bent double inches from him would be a sight he would probably return to in his dreams for the rest of his life.

“Yuuri,  _ Ûan _ , please let me touch you,” he pleaded.

Yuuri straightened up and turned to face Phichit. His eyes were glassy and his cock was hard and flushed dark. With shaking hands, he reached around and fumbled the suspenders off of Phichit’s wrists. Before Yuuri could change his mind and cause him a literal, actual heart attack, Phichit grabbed for his hips, trying to tug Yuuri onto his lap. But Yuuri spun away from him again, holding his ass apart on display. Then in one smooth movement, sunk himself down onto Phichit’s cock. 

They moaned in unison. Phichit’s hands flew back to Yuuri’s hips, this time to steady him. His cock was so hard that he doubted he’d last very long. Both men were panting hard as Yuuri used the strong legs Phichit so adored to rock in his lap. Phichit hungrily watched the shift and play of the muscles in his boyfriend’s back and ass. He thrust in time into Yuuri, unable to stop the rising heat in his abdomen.

“I’m not going to last,” he gasped, pressing his forehead into Yuuri’s back. 

“Won’t have to,” Yuuri mumbled back. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on Phichit’s knees and crying out as the angle brought Phichit’s cock brushing against his prostate.

“Like that, like that,” he chanted brokenly, taking his cock in hand. He fucked up into his fist as he rocked on Phichit, and Phichit once again cursed his lack of foresight and camera.

He felt the urgent need to move faster, the heat inside him growing demanding. Phichit forced himself to hold to his pace, refusing to risk losing the sweet angle inside Yuuri that was drawing small cries like sobs from his boyfriend with each thrust. The heat inside him was insistent, and if it grew slowly when it washed over him it was like his entire body ignited.

When he came back to himself, Yuuri was rocking madly in his lap, hips stuttering. Phichit pulled him back, hard, thrusting into him with his softening cock. Yuuri shouted and his back arched, come splattering on his hand, Phichit’s knees, and the floor. Phichit had just enough presence of mind to pull his boyfriend back against him and hold him there as they both tried to catch their breath. He could feel Yuuri’s legs shaking with the effort of keeping himself upright.

“Bed?” he whispered.

Yuuri just moaned softly in reply.

So Phichit helped him stand and brace himself on the chair. Yuuri whimpered a little at the loss of contact, but Phichit quickly kicked off his pants and slung an arm around Yuuri’s waist. They staggered together into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed.

After a few minutes, Phichit pushed himself up on the bed more comfortably and tugged his boyfriend to join him. Yuuri settled into the crook of his shoulder and slung and arm around him. They rested in comfortable silence, just breathing. 

Phichit thought Yuuri must have fallen asleep when he suddenly took a deeper breath and hugged Phichit tightly. “Phichit-kun?” He asked softly.

“Mm?”

“You really do like your fat-bottomed boy?”

Phichit laughed. “Yuuri, I  _ love _ my fat-bottom boy!” His arms tightened around Yuuri. 

“Thanks,” Yuuri smiled a he snuggled a bit further into him.

“Hey,” Phichit grinned. “I love things that are cute and fluffy, including boyfriends. After all, don't forget my patronus is a hamster!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri was, of course, skating to [Queen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VMnjF1O4eH0), with his outfit modeled after Freddie Mercury. Phichit vehemently agrees with Freddie.
> 
> He strips to [De Cara a La Pared by Lhasa de Sela](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TQQtoqggvOY).
> 
> Yuuri's body confidence waxes and wanes like mine does. Good days, bad days, ups and downs. If you feel like this Yuuri is too OOC, remember that at the beginning of the series he's lost Vicchan, bombed at the GPF and Japanese Nationals, and been stress-eating for months before being confronted with his _idol_ , who makes fun of his weight. In this story, he's in an affirming and established relationship with his best friend. The situations are pretty different!

**Author's Note:**

>  **Translations:**  
>  _Ûan_ \- ["Chubby" or "Fat"](https://thaiwomantalks.com/2012/02/14/ticklish-names-thais-call-their-sweethearts/) (Thai endearment)  
>  _yạ̀wywn_ \- Voluptuous (Thai)
> 
> How did they get together? My headcanon is that it went [something like this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9868835), but the characters never actually told me. I'm not sure what happens to their relationship after, either, so your headcanon is as good as mine. Do they sometimes roleplay like Phichit is Victor? Absolutely yes, he's Yuuri's "Phichit would just have to understand". They also roleplay The King and the Skater and both have fun. It's hot and afterwords they have a good giggle about it. Yuuri does a much better Thai accent than Phichit does Russian.
> 
> With thanks to [neuroglam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/neuroglam) for the beta, and thanks to my wife, as always, for helping me work through the bits that were kicking my ass.


End file.
